


Like Fools We Suffer

by ConsultingWriter



Series: The Nature of Things. [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based in the Batman Beyond universe, Damian is the Demon’s Head, Future Fic, Jon is Superman, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 10:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: Based off of Batman Beyond: Rise of the Demon (6-11).The Demon’s Head receives a visitor one night.





	Like Fools We Suffer

**Author's Note:**

> I’m planning for this to be a series if I get positive feedback about it. Unbeta’d as usual.
> 
> Edit: Someone in the comments asked about Jon’s Kryptonian name being Jor-El. I haven’t read an issue where he goes by any Kryptonian name, so I just put down Jon-El. This isn’t to say there hasn’t been an issue where he uses a Kryptonian name, I just haven’t read it (as I’m not 100% caught up on Superman/Action Comics).

The whispering of a cape dancing against the cool night breeze reached his ears long before the soles of bright red boots touched his balcony.

“Long live the Demon’s Head,” the familiar voice murmured from the opening that separated his chambers from the terrace. The tone wasn’t reverent like Damian was used to or mocking like it could have been. It just was. Calm and strong, a reflection on the character of the man who had spoken.

Long live, indeed, The Demon’s Head mused to himself. What a useless greeting for an immortal.

“Superman,” he hummed in return, not breaking out of his meditative pose. 

The thick curtains that hung in the doorway between the balcony and his room hushed against the tiled floor when Superman brushed them aside to step into the room.

“Damian,” Jon kneeled behind him and settled his butt on his heels. He was so warm that Damian could feel him even across the inches that separated them.

“Jon-El,” he allowed, but still didn’t turn to face him. He wouldn’t be swayed.

“Darling,” Jon tried again and Damian, damn his weakness, finally turned to look at him. He kept his eyes trained on the ‘S’ on his chest because he couldn’t bring himself to meet Jon’s eyes.

“Beloved,” the word weighed heavily on both his tongue and his soul. He reached up a deceptively steady hand and traced that accursed symbol with the tips of his fingers. The reinforced Kevlar was new. He wondered why the change, then promptly reminded himself that it didn’t matter.

This was the curse that separated them. That, and Damian’s own Lazarus green eyes. Jon let him map the ridges and dips of the armored ‘S’—the one that didn’t matter, he repeated firmly—for a minute before he reached up and caught Damian’s hand with his own. Instead of pulling Damian’s hand away, however, Jon simply moved it across his chest to press it against his heart. The beat under Damian’s palm was steady and strong and the al Ghul let himself enjoy it. It had been so long since he’d seen Jon, felt his comforting pulse under his fingers.

“Darling,” Jon repeated, holding fast to the strong hand trapped against his chest. While his left hand was occupied keeping Damian’s pressed close, he used his right hand to tilt Damian’s chin up to finally meet his gaze. Those unnaturally green eyes met his own reluctantly.

“When are you going to stop this and come home?” If he wasn’t on his knees already, he would’ve put himself there now. He could do nothing less then beg.

Damian tore his eyes away from Jon’s honest, searching gaze and felt his hand clench into a fist against the younger man’s heart. He didn’t want to have this fight again. Not when he’d gone so long without Jon. “You already know the answer to that. Gotham is no longer my home, and I cannot stop until I have rid this planet of the worst of the festering sickness that spreads over its surface like an unceasing plague.”

Jon lowered his head to rest against Damian’s dark locks, “Humanity is not a plague, Damian. I wish you could see that.”

“And I wish that you could see what a fool you are. It seems we’re both doomed to fumble along blindly.” The ache he carried in his chest where hope had once rested and his overwhelming weakness for Jon softened the edge in his voice. Dulled his words from the finest forged swords to a child’s bokken.

“But you suffer this fool.” Despite their never-ending argument, those strong arms wrapped around his waist and held fast, and, just for the night, Damian sunk into them. Let himself be supported by Jon’s love and light. Reminded himself of what he’d had to give up to fulfill his destiny. Surely, he reasoned on those endless cold, lonely nights, the fate of the world was worth his sacrifice.

He lifted his head and stretched his neck up, lips closing fast over Jon’s, even as he spoke, “I suffer you gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, if you like it let me know! I’ve got big plans for this universe but only if enough people like it.


End file.
